


Sad Eyes

by AsheTarasovich (natalieashe), natalieashe



Series: I'll Haunt You In A Good Way [1]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Alec is Dead, Alec is Still A Git, Established Relationship, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Moving On, Or As Fluffy As I Get, Q is Sad, Sadness, Song fic, james is an idiot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 09:41:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3405956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natalieashe/pseuds/AsheTarasovich, https://archiveofourown.org/users/natalieashe/pseuds/natalieashe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alec Trevelyan died in his sleep, an indignity in his opinion.  Q, his lover, is attempting to move on with the help of Alec's best friend James.  Alec just has to interfere.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sad Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Loosely based on the song 'Sad Eyes' by Bat for Lashes

Mirrors didn’t lie. Bond stared at his reflection critically, noting the deepening crows feet around his eyes and the smattering of whiter strands that no longer passed for blond on closer inspection. He hadn’t slept properly so bags puffed under his eyes making them appear narrower. Lack of sleep. Yes, that was why they looked like piss holes in the snow. Nothing to do with the vat of Macallan he’d sunk in recent days. 

The door to the restroom opened, closed. He nodded in the mirror, straightened his tie, smoothed his hands over the front of his immaculate jacket. 

“Do you have it?” Alec asked. 

James fished in his pocket, felt the heavy gold band slip over his fingertip, smooth, cool. “Yes, it's safe here.” He patted his pocket, offering a smile.

“Great” Alec said and left.

James wasted a few more minutes, until he couldn’t avoid the inevitable. It was almost time.

Q-branch was calm, peaceful even. Several pairs of wary eyes watched him traverse the room, ducking their faces behind monitors as he passed. A kid carrying a familiar steaming Q Scrabble mug was headed to the corner office. Bond intercepted him, gently persuading the terrified technician that he should part with the offering and allow the Double O to deliver it.

Q didn’t look up until James nudged aside his mouse to place the mug on his desk. The delicately fragranced steam fogged the lower corner of the large monitor.

“Ten minutes Q. Don’t want to be late.”

James offered a small smile which was returned with the briefest quirk of lips and a sharp nod. Q lifted the mug and inhaled deeply then set it down without drinking. 

“We should go.” Rising, he tugged at the hem of the dark green cardigan. Always a cardigan, even today. “I hate waiting around when there are things to be done.”

James held out the Crombie and Q slid his arms into it, standing placidly while James settled the coat onto his bony shoulders. It was odd to see the young man so put together, hair neat, clothes immaculate. James fiddled with the ring in his pocket and smiled fondly. Alec would finally get his wish.

“Shall we?” James offered his arm. Q quirked an eyebrow in amusement and after a moment curled his hand around the expensively wool-covered forearm and allowed himself to be led through his department and out of the building to the waiting car.

James never took his eyes off Q through the service. Straight-backed, proud, composed.

“I’m a lucky man” Alec smiled, and James felt the pang of loss more keenly than ever before.

“Yes.” He whispered. “You are.”

Q was sagging under the attention. Too many handshakes, shoulder clasps, pats on the back from virtual strangers. James caught his eye and nodded in sympathy. The young man’s shoulders straightened, bearing up under the onslaught just barely. 

No one but James noticed the moment Q shattered. He pinched the bridge of his nose hard, nudged his spectacles into place with a knuckle. Fingers buried into his hair, violently ruffling the carefully combed strands into chaotic waves. Turned on his heel and walked briskly down the yellow gravel path to the car.

“He’s not doing well, is he?” Alec observed.

"Did you expect he would?” James threw over his shoulder as he walked away.

Q leaned against the car looking out over the rows of regimented headstones. Most still appeared new. White marble, black granite. James stepped into his personal space and pulled him into his arms. Q dropped his forehead to James’ shoulder and let out a long controlled breath. He shuddered and James tightened his hold.

“He should have died in the field, not in fucking bed.” Q said fiercely.

“Bloody pissed about that” Alec muttered. “Who just stops?”

James sighed “it's not how he would have wanted it.” He pressed his lips to the side of Q’s curly head without thinking. Q froze, relaxed deliberately, stepped out of James’ embrace. 

James trailed his hand down Q’s arm until he loosely held onto the fingers of Q’s left hand. Alec’s ring slid into place easily, resting loosely at the base joint of his finger. James stared at it for a moment and then raised Q’s hand to his mouth, placing a tender kiss on the knuckle above it. Behind him Alec made a small sad sound.

“Alec intended to give it to you himself one day.”

Q touched it with a fingertip, flicking it so it span on his slim digit. James squeezed his fingers and covered his hand with the other one. He couldn’t bear to see it. It was what Alec wanted and James would always do what Alec wanted. Q extricated his fingers and took a long hard look at the wedding band. He tipped his hand and it fell into his waiting palm. Pressed it into James’ hand.

“Too soon.”

Q slid into the passenger seat, looked resolutely ahead even when James closed the door for him.

“At least you tried” Alec said sadly.

“He’s not rejecting you.” James murmured. “He just doesn’t know how to move past it.”

There was no wake to go on to. No celebration of life, no remembrance of a man and his achievements. Family was non-existent, friends were few and far scattered. Death in service but not one of ‘the fallen’, he wouldn’t even be recognised as dying for Queen and Country. It had taken a month to confirm that for sure. Natural causes. The car dipped as James got in and the engine purred into life. He reached out, closed fingers around Q’s thin, chilled hand. 

“Come back to the flat?” James asked.

“I need to work. Please. Take me back.”

“Give him time” Alec said from the back seat.

Days passed into weeks. James watched Q from the edges as he went about his life. Quietly bearing up, not falling apart. Publicly at least. 

But his eyes. Dulled with sadness. Clouded with the pain of loss. More than anything, Q’s eyes gave him away.

James was alone in the cupboard MI6 laughingly called his office, chair tipped back, feet propped on the desk. An unfinished report open on his screen was half hidden by an open web page on the stages of grief. It told him nothing he didn’t already know. Nothing that would help. 

“I told you he wasn’t textbook.” Alec supplied unhelpfully from his perch on the desk, swinging his legs, trying to kick the waste paper bin.

“Of course not.” James agreed. “So what do I do?” 

"Be James" Alec smiled.

Of all the unhelpful advice James had ever received ‘be James’ had to be the most useless. James was rarely James. He was 007, an agent of SIS, doing his best not to die, or he was Bond, flirtatious nuisance to Moneypenny and source of irritation to M. He was the destroyer of Q-branch tech and liberator of Alec’s booze. He actively avoided being off-duty. Off-duty was a lonely, washed up, borderline alcoholic who once in a while thought it might be quite nice to meet his end. Death was peaceful. You could stop caring once you were dead. Or apparently not…

“Yes” Alec said from the door. “He needs James, and you need him.”

Footsteps outside his door and a familiar figure paused, ducked his head, hurried on.

“Q?”

Q backed up, glanced quickly to James, back to his feet. When he looked at James again there was an unconvincing smile that failed to shine in his dark eyes. He was wearing the dark green cardigan again. The one James had come to call the ‘bad day sweater’. He had a shirt with a broken button that held the same significance.

“Did you need something Bond?” Q shifted nervously, eager to leave.

James let the chair legs fall to the floor with a thump. He pulled the startled Quartermaster into the office and closed the door. Q looked down at their joined hands in confusion,mouth falling open to protest being manhandled, when James pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek.

“Tonight. You’re having dinner with me.” Clumsy, hurried, unplanned. Not 007. Not Bond. 

“I… What?”

"Smooth James" Alec chuckled. 

James glared at him and Q looked anxiously over his shoulder to see what had irritated the agent so much. Turning back to James he smirked “What did the door do to you?”

“Got in my way” James growled.

“And you’re still sore about it after all this time. Even though I’m dead and giving you my blessing!” 

“You are such a wanker.” James hissed under his breath too quiet for Q to hear.

Alec grinned and instinctively dodged the fist that sailed through him to connect painfully with the wood. The air turned bluer than James’ eyes as he cradled his bruised knuckles

Q yelped, diving out of the way. “What on earth…? James?”

“I’m sorry. Sometimes Alec just…”

Q laid a hand on James jaw and turned him to face him. Storm green and heartbreakingly sad eyes, but his mouth turned up in a gentle smile. “I miss him too. Dinner would be lovely James.” Something flickered deep in those eyes and then was gone. Q leaned towards him and slid his arms around James waist, dark head tucking into the crook of James’ neck. The hug lasted minutes, James eventually wrapping his arms awkwardly around Q. “Yes, I miss him so much too, and you’re probably the only person in the world who understands.” Q said softly.

James poured more wine, grinning at Q across the table when the young man’s animated hands threatened to send his newly-filled drink crashing to the floor. James steadied it, just as Q reached for it, their fingers meeting around the stem of the glass.

“oops” Q giggled “Sorry. I think I may be a little drunk.” Flushed pink cheeks and wide smile framed by softly curling hair that was growing a little long. James’ heart stuttered when Q’s fingers began absently toying with his. Q leaned forwards, resting his other elbow on the table and regarded James with too-bright eyes. “Do you remember our first date?”

“It was our only date Q” James smiled sadly. “Three days later you met Alec and I became invisible.”

“You should have said something, old man. How was I supposed to know?” Alec shrugged. James ignored him.

“But it was a good date. The perfect date.” Q was endearingly earnest. “And you have never been invisible.” He trailed the back of his fingers over James’ cheek. James captured them in his free hand, brushed them lightly against his lips.

“I agree you’re a little tipsy. But it was a lovely date. You talked non-stop then too.”

“Right up to the point you kissed me to shut me up. And there were fireworks.”

"Fireworks?” Alec frowned. “I’ve kissed you before. Why did I never get fireworks?”

James chuckled at the random path Q took through their remembered date and turned away from Alec who was huffing at the lack of spectacular kisses. “The fireworks came later Q.”

“Hang on” Alec was on his feet “you said you and he never-“

“Oh yes, I remember now” sighed Q. “We watched them from the restaurant patio. It was a lovely date James. Thank you.”

"It was four years ago Q” James grinned. “But it makes me feel better that you enjoyed it enough to remember the details. Perhaps…?”

Q nodded. “Yes, perhaps.”

James wandered the flat, glass in hand, bare feet chilled on the oak wood flooring. He paused at the door to Alec’s room, forehead resting against the painted wood. Almost ten weeks since the last time he’d entered the room to find… He sighed deeply, turning away, back to the kitchen and his bottle.

“You never go in there.” Alec lounged on the sofa. “It's just a room. Might as well use it.”

“How can you say that? It's the room where you-“

"Died. Yes, I remember, I was there.” Alec disappeared and then called from beyond the door. “No horrors back here. And I’m still dead.”

“And no less a tosser” James muttered, gripping the door handle. Alec was right, keeping the room as a shrine to a dead man was pointless, unhealthy. It wasn’t as if Alec had actually lived there full time. Alec looked up as the door swung open and James leaned against the wall just inside. “You were hardly ever here yet the room is full of you. How the fuck can that be?”

“I always did know how to make an impression” Alec smirked. “You should ask him to move in.”

“Because I am crass enough to say ‘why not move into your dead lover’s bedroom? The room he died in less than three months ago.’”

“Well, I rather thought you’d share your bedroom and he could make this an office, but getting you under the same roof is a step in the right direction.” Alec winced, even though the glass flew right through him to shatter against the wall. The door slammed shut.

Mirrors couldn’t lie. James braced himself on the washbasin and assessed what he had to offer. Scarred and ageing. An old dog without the energy to pursue an attractive young man who stuck around because James was the best friend of his dead lover. A relationship built on the memory of a man they had both loved was doomed to disaster. Once you had rehashed all the memories, relived the good times, glossed over the bad times, what was left to hold you together? Four years was a long time to hang onto an unrequited crush that had no chance of amounting to anything. But now... The bottle accompanied James to bed.

Thirteen weeks, three months, quarter of a year. It wasn’t significant in the grand scheme of things, but it felt so when James walked into Q’s office, fingering the broken button on his shirt. Q stared beyond the monitor, lost in thought until James touched his shoulder lightly. “James” he breathed, tugging the dark green cardigan straight as he stood. “Let me buy you dinner. La Chapelle. I made a reservation already. Please say you will.”

Sad eyes, beseeching him to say yes. How could he refuse? Alec smiled benevolently from the corner of Q’s office and James wanted to punch him.

Their main course was cleared away, dessert declined. James poured the rest of the wine and the sipped while they waited for strong black espresso. Tipsy Q laced their fingers together and giggled.

“What?” James smiled at the mellow man, with the slightly unfocused eyes.

“I was thinking of Alec, and what he would say about this… Whatever it is?”

“About bloody time” Alec murmured from the next table. 

“He would probably berate me for attempting to date his partner.” James said sourly, good humour in danger of disappearing. “That’s… Well, it’s not really a date, is it? Dinner between friends.”

“Isn’t it? I rather hoped it was. I think he’d say ‘Get out there Q. Get your leg over.’” Q’s chuckles died away as James disentangled their fingers.

“I’m not that man, Q. Whatever Alec may have told you.”  
“Well done, old man. Fuck it up, why don’t you?” Alec growled from behind Q’s shoulder. His hands came to rest on Q’s shoulders and the dark haired man shuddered at a sudden chill. 

James passed a hand over his face tiredly. The wine and the earlier whisky buzzed in his head, and now he was confronted with a kicked puppy of a man who looked like he would very much like to break down were they not in a busy restaurant.

“I'm sorry,” James said, eyes fixed somewhere above Q’s head. “Moving on from Alec… It's not as easy as fucking his boyfriend.”

Q cracked then, pushing away from the table and rushing from the restaurant, head bowed to hide the tears.

“You’re a real bastard James” Alec snarled, leaving him alone.

James woke in a tangle of blankets, sweating, head throbbing in time with the hammering on his door. A glance at the clock – 3.27am - told him it was probably something he should ignore, roll over, go back to sleep, but whoever was assaulting his door was having none of it. He swung his legs out of bed, groaning at the acid feel in his belly from old alcohol and not enough food. Apart from the bastard trying to break through his door, the flat was mercifully silent. Alec was still sulking elsewhere. The door was forced open before he had managed to crack it an inch.

“You have no fucking right to do this to me!”

“Come in Q, why don’t you?” James sighed as the bundle of scarf and parka forced its way past him. Q unwrapped, dropping the scarf on the floor and dumping the parka over the back of the armchair. It slithered off unheeded. “Make yourself at home.” The agent said drily.

“You’re avoiding me” Q accused, arms crossed, scowling from behind his glasses. “I thought we were supporting each other through the aftermath of Alec’s death,” James winced “but you decide that it's come to an end without even bothering to tell me? A whole week of silence.”

“We had a fight Q, it's what people do. Ignore each other for a while.”

“It wasn’t a fight. You behaved like an arse.”

“He’s got you there” Alec commented behind him, sauntering around to drop untidily onto the sofa.

"You’re back. Great!” James grouched. He reeled from the slap, hand clutching the left side of his face, rubbing the sting away. Alec sniggered.

“Of course I’m fucking back, because I am not a complete insensitive idiot. I came to apologise.” Q snapped.

“And you do that by hitting me? For what, anyway?”

“For not understanding that there was an appropriate grieving time between the death of one’s partner and wanting to feel connected to someone again. For being lonely and wanting someone I trust to hold me and make the loneliness go away for a while. For caring about you, even though you’re a wanker. For misreading all the little touches, caresses and kisses, and assuming you cared about me too. For actually imagining that you could possibly want me. Me. Not Alec-fucking-Trevelyan’s bereaved partner, but Q, someone who is attracted to James Bond, not Alec-fucking-Trevelyan’s best friend!”

“There’s my boy. At least one of you has some balls.” 

James closed his eyes, fists clenched by his sides, trying his best to ignore his dead best friend and concentrate on Q’s onslaught of words. The bombardment continued, relentless, impassioned, full of feelings that poked and prodded and dragged a response from him. James seized him and shut him up.

The kiss was brutal and wonderful. James mashed their lips together, jamming one hand in Q’s hair and pressing the other into the small of Q’s back, forcing their bodies together. Q gripped James’ shoulder and returned the kiss with ferocity. 

Eventually they broke apart and James held Q away from him slightly. Q’s cheeks were wet. James brushed the tears away with his thumbs. “I’m sorry. I am indeed an arse. Alec…”

“Is bloody fine with it. Be happy, you wankers.” Alec sniffed.

“… Would be happy, I think.”

Q nodded, smiled. “Well if he’s not, I’m sure he’ll come back and haunt us.”


End file.
